If Consort Chen failed to protect the second daughter of the Meng family, she wouldn't blame Prince An—she'd hate the Noble Consort instead.
Prince An had artfully kept himself out of the fray, offending no one and staying pristine.
Master Ji stroked his goat beard and said gravely, "We'll need to plan carefully. His Highness absolutely cannot appear to be directly involved in sneaking the Second Miss of the Meng family into the palace. If you ask me, we should first find a way to extract the girl and deliver her to the Meng Madam. Then let the Meng Madam personally escort her daughter into the palace and beg Consort Chen for protection. That would be ideal."
Everyone nodded in agreement. After hashing out the plan's finer details, Prince An rolled up his sleeves, eager to get to work.
The next day, Prince An visited the Wei residence under the guise of relaying orders from the Noble Consort: the Second Miss Meng was to be transferred to the Ministry of Justice for solitary interrogation.
The Wei family had long despised Meng Wenxian. She married in, and Wei Quan dropped dead—if that wasn't bad luck, what was?
Soon enough, Meng Wenxian was dragged to the Ministry's prison, where Prince An personally "interrogated" her.
As soon as they were alone, he untied her restraints and helped her sit.
"I know you've suffered, Miss Meng," Prince An said softly. "But the Noble Consort's command is law—I had no choice. Keeping you here is only a temporary measure. Once the time is right, I'll help you escape. You can return home first, then head to the palace and seek Consort Chen's protection."
Wenxian, terrified from days of captivity, finally relaxed. With eyes brimming with gratitude, she bowed gracefully.
"Thank you, Your Highness. My life is in your hands now. I beg your mercy."
Prince An swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He stared at her, momentarily forgetting how to speak.
Sensing the moment, Wenxian feigned weakness and leaned gently into him. The contact made Prince An's body go numb with desire. But they were still in a prison cell—albeit a private one—so he restrained himself. Barely. After a few indulgent touches, he pulled away, promising over and over that he would keep her safe.
Two days later, with no solid evidence against her, the Ministry had no choice but to release Meng Wenxian.
As she turned the corner outside the prison gates, someone yanked her onto a carriage. She gasped—only to find herself staring into the familiar face of Prince An. Her body went limp with relief.
The two succumbed to their mutual passion right there in the moving carriage, their desires igniting like dry leaves to flame.
By the time they reached the Meng estate, Wenxian was reluctant to go back.
"The Noble Consort holds too much power," she sobbed in Prince An's arms. "Even if I return home, she won't let me go. Please, Your Highness… don't abandon me."
Prince An, thoroughly intoxicated—emotionally and otherwise—immediately turned the carriage around and brought her back to his own manor.
Days passed, and the fifteenth of the month approached—a day when every consort was expected to pay respects to the Noble Consort.
The night before, Meng Wenyao clung to the edge of the bed, pleading, "Your Majesty, I can't take it anymore…"
The Emperor, trailing his fingers along her silken skin, husked, "I apply medicine to you every day. Why does your body still fail to keep up?"
Wenyao was nearly in tears. Not even an iron body could endure such nightly torment.
"Please, Your Majesty," she whimpered. "I must go pay respects to the Noble Consort tomorrow. My legs and back are about to give out. If I can't walk straight, she'll be furious."
The Emperor frowned. She's refusing my favor just to go kneel before another woman? His mood soured.
"Don't go," he ordered.
"I must. I can't afford to grow arrogant just because I'm favored," Wenyao argued gently.
She hadn't seen the Noble Consort in days. If she didn't stir up some drama soon, how would she drive a wedge between them? The worse the Noble Consort treated her, the more the Emperor would cherish her.
"I spoil you so that you can do whatever you please in this palace," he growled.
But the Emperor wasn't done with her, not even close. No amount of tears or begging could sway him.
In desperation, Wenyao played her final card. She cried softly, "It hurts…"
That finally made him pause. "Tch… Fine. Tomorrow the imperial physician will adjust your prescription. If they still can't fix your body, I'll personally have their heads removed."
Wenyao shuddered. Is he seriously going to kill over this? She decided she wouldn't be using that excuse again.
Thankfully, she had already been taking the fertility pill for some time. If she could hold out for another month, the physician would detect her pregnancy. Then she'd finally get some rest.
The next morning, Wenyao arrived at the Noble Consort's palace—and nearly thought she'd walked into a temple instead.
Gone was the luxurious décor. The place had been stripped bare, turned solemn. Everyone knew the Noble Consort was grieving her nephew's death and wisely kept their heads down, trying not to provoke her.
But Wenyao wasn't here to be invisible. She needed to stir the pot.
The Wei family had done too much harm. It was time to tear them down—one poisonous weed at a time. For her past self, for all the innocents they hurt.
"Dear sister," Wenyao said sweetly, "the dead are gone. I hope you can find peace. Your nephew must have suffered terribly to leave this world so early, but I'm sure he's enjoying the bliss of the heavens now."
Her smile was soft and angelic. Every consort in the room blinked, stunned. Even those ready to slip away sat back down, sensing a storm incoming.
The Noble Consort's bloodshot eyes bored into her like venomous fangs.
She had ordered Prince An to target Meng Wenxian and drag the whole Meng family down. But the Ministry had bungled it, and Meng Wenxian had vanished. No evidence, no leverage.
And now, here stood Wenyao, practically begging to be targeted.
"Well then," the Noble Consort said icily, "since Master Wei was Consort Chen's brother-in-law, I wonder how the Second Miss of the Meng family would feel about your words?"
Ah. So this was an attempt to pit the sisters against each other. Classic.
"My dear sister was heartbroken, naturally," Wenyao replied. "But Master Wei had so many concubines—half of them already passed. I imagine they were waiting for him up in the heavens. Perhaps he just couldn't bear to make them wait longer."
The room stilled.
Everyone knew what kind of man Wei Quan was. The women he abducted. The lives he ruined. Disgust crept over the faces of the consorts.
The Noble Consort was livid. How dare she slander the dead? She wanted nothing more than to force Wenyao to kneel and beg forgiveness.
"Family should support each other," she finally said through clenched teeth. "You speak too harshly, Consort Chen. But never mind—I won't quarrel today. For the sake of your sister, why not offer a few prayers for my poor nephew's soul?"
Using Meng Wenxian as leverage again. And it was just a prayer—what could possibly go wrong?
Surrounded by watchful eyes, Wenyao couldn't find a graceful way to decline. Reluctantly, she stepped forward and took the prayer beads handed to her.
Fine, she thought. Let's see what she's plotting now.